And I didn’t know it then, but at the same time a few high school kids who would become very brilliant marketers in the future must have been taking German in high school, too.

This got me to wondering what drives people to buy food and beverage products that have funny sounding names or funny looking alphabetics on the labels? Does anyone honestly believe that Häagen Dasz ice cream comes from a European country whose language uses umlauts? Lest you be mislead, it was created and manufactured in the Bronx and is now owned by Pillsbury.

I’ve seen it with bottled water (the claims about the source of these various brands of water is fodder for another column) and yogurt, among other things. And don’t you just love the brand that spells it yøgürt? (That o with a diagonal line through it is the Danish equivalent of the umlaut. And if you pronounced it they way you’re supposed to, then it would sound like you were saying yeh-geert. Eew.)

Snob appeal is a time-honored marketing technique. How about all of these hair care products commercials on television voiced by people with the most elitist British accents? It took me the full 30 seconds to realize that when the woman said hay-uh she meant hair.

So is this stuff any better than brands without accent marks and other diacritical anomalies?

Well, it depends. In the world of ice cream, the higher the butterfat content, the richer the ice cream tastes. It’s the reason you’ll see lines down the block and then doubled back at frozen custard stands. The aforementioned Häagen Dasz began a trend that its competitors had no choice but to follow. Increase the butterfat and find exotic flavors and flavor combinations. Bless you anyway, Ben and Jerry.

There’s nothing wrong with this. I’m a died-in-the-wool capitalist. But when it comes to food, I’m also a deconstructionist. That’s the way I made my reputation in the television food business – showing folks that restaurant food can be made in almost any home kitchen, with not that many exceptions.

So let’s call an umlaut an umlaut and read the ingredients on the packaging. I’ll bet you dollars to donuts that brands without the funny looking letters match the fancy brands calorie for calorie, fat gram for fat gram.

Taste, of course, is subjective, which I suppose makes it somewhat akin to golf – it’s all in your head.

(So maybe if my golf balls had brand names with umlauts I could keep them in the fairway.)

Nevertheless, go ahead and buy what you want. But if you’ve got one of those home ice cream making contraptions and you can whip up Crème Anglaise, then you’ve got the makings of French Vanilla Ice Cream that I’d put up against any umlaut brand any day of the week.

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Crème Anglaise
(Vanilla Custard Sauce)

6 large egg yolks
2/3 cup sugar
2 cups half and half
1 vanilla bean, split*

Whisk egg yolks and 2/3 cup sugar in medium bowl to blend. Place 2 cups half and half in heavy medium saucepan. Scrape in seeds from vanilla bean; add bean. Bring mixture to simmer over medium heat. Remove from heat. Gradually whisk hot half and half mixture into egg yolk mixture. Return mixture to saucepan. Stir over medium-low heat until custard thickens slightly and leaves path on back of spoon when finger is drawn across, about 12 minutes (do not boil). Discard vanilla bean. Cover and refrigerate until cold. (Can be prepared 1 day ahead; keep refrigerated.)

* You may substitute 2 tsp. vanilla extract, but add it just before whisking in the egg yolk mixture.

Three shows a day for a couple of days, cooking live (as opposed to my video taped gigs where the editing room frequently saves my bacon, so to speak).

At this particular fair there were no big name bands, no country crooners, no music revival groups. No — just the diving dogs, the racing pigs – and me. Yessirree — show business is my life.

If you’ve ever watched chefs cook live on television you’ve probably witnessed the bizarre phenomenon of people applauding for the addition of garlic or cayenne pepper to a recipe. I’ve never really understood that.

I love garlic as much as the next guy and I use it in many of my recipes. But applauding for it? Well, applaud they did and I must confess, it’s addictive. I then began to wonder: What else can I do to elicit more applause?

When you’re a so-called “celebrity chef,” there are only two kinds of people you encounter: People who know who you are and people who haven’t a clue.

So as much as I enjoyed getting applause for adding garlic to one of the three pans I had going, there were those who attended the fair who thought I was just another food vendor and they wanted to know what kind of cold beer I had for sale.

And then there was this: A little girl – probably no more than nine or 10 years old – saw one of my demonstrations and then saw me having lunch that I purchased from one of the food concessions. So she asked a very legitimate question: “If you’re a chef, how come you didn’t make your own lunch?”

I have a stock answer, because it’s not the first time I’ve been asked. Quite honestly, one of my favorite things is when someone else cooks for me. But I digress. Back to the fair.

This is what I learned: Some people came to see me cook – my foodie groupies. Some came out of curiosity – about a guy they sometimes see on TV. Some were there because there was an available chair (walking a fair can be exhausting). And some came because they thought there would be free food.

But the county health department foiled their plan. One of my other favorite things – the food police – said you can look but you can’t taste.

I recently celebrated a milestone birthday that included some very expensive meals at some high end restaurants in California.

As a working chef, the price of food is always foremost in my mind. When you’re in business you have to make a profit, otherwise you’re not in business. So I got to thinking about the prices of restaurant food.

Make no mistake: I like cooking for money. That’s how I earn my way in this world. But I don’t have the same overhead that a big restaurant does, because I don’t own a restaurant. But does the boneless rib eye steak (choice grade) that I buy for $7.99 a pound and that I cook to perfection really differ that much from the $75 steak (same cut, but graded prime) in the trendy ultra-hip steakhouse?

Prime beef is generally available only to restaurants and because so much of it is exported, it’s pretty hard to find. It is rarely available at the retail level. Most of us buy choice grade as do most restaurants. If I were to buy that same rib eye at retail, and the grade was prime, the price would be at least double if not more.

Don’t even get me started about Wagyu – the American version of Kobe beef – because if you think prime beef is expensive, you’ll burst a gasket when you see the prices for Wagyu.

I had my first taste of authentic Kobe beef about 15 years ago and even then, the meat sold for $90 a pound. A year or so ago, a well-known chef in New York created a $1,000 hamburger using Kobe beef. And the aforementioned hip restaurant where I had my birthday dinner offered a Kobe beef corn dog (!) for $26. If you pay that much for a hamburger or a hot dog, then you have too much money.

So how do you gauge what restaurant food is worth? How much are you willing to pay for “atmosphere” and other non-tangibles? Does one chef’s prime steak outweigh another’s perfectly cooked choice steak?

First of all, as far as I’m concerned, I always love it when someone else cooks for me. And if that someone else happens to be a talented, creative and innovative chef, that’s great. I perceive value in that. I hope that my clients perceive of me likewise.

I have to draw the line at these cookie-cutter steakhouses where everything is a la carte. After ordering a piece of beef that’s north of 50 bucks, I refuse to pay $12 for creamed spinach or any vegetable side dish. Similarly, potatoes no matter how they’re prepared are just not worth $15. At those prices, the plate should come with something more than the beef and a sprig of parsley.

There are exceptions. Foie gras or white truffles could influence my decision. You’ll never convince me, however, that high prices could ever have anything to do with quality.

But, hey, it’s your money. You spend it the way you want.